


True or False

by iriswests



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, a lot of fluff, but never delves into them, just a lot of fluff, mentions of manic/depressive episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9556025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswests/pseuds/iriswests
Summary: Seven moments between Isak and Even (+1 with Sonja), ranging from the ages of four and six to the ages of seventeen and nineteen, respectively.Or, the childhood best friends AU no one asked me for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> idk how good this is but i hope you like it either way! it was more of an exercise for me, i'm trying to get inspiration again 'cause i am writing a much, much longer evak fic, and i needed to get my juices flowing again, so!! this whatever happened!!!
> 
> forgive any typos, it was not beta'd because my life is a mess anyway so why hide it!!

Even’s six years old when he meets Isak Valtersen.

“Take care of him,” his mom warns him, and Even looks at her incredulously. Isak is short and his face is chubby and he’s pouting while both his arms cling to a stuffed Barney, as if he wants to be here just as much as Even.

(That is to say: not at all.)

Even’s _six years old_ , he doesn’t say, and Isak is only _four_ , and he shouldn’t have to babysit this kid that’ll probably just ruin his fun and probably doesn’t even know the alphabet yet; at least, not in its entirety.

Even gives him mom a look. His mom levels him with one of her own.

“Take care of him,” she repeats, and Even huffs as she leaves the two of them in his room. The voices out in the dining room fluctuate in volume as the door opens and closes, and there is a round of laughter as he hears his mother’s heels click, click, click further away.

Isak is still pouting. Even doesn’t know what to do with him.

“Do you know the alphabet?” Even asks, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an inquiring brow. Isak looks up at him, eyes wide, like he didn’t expect to hear a word out of Even that was directed towards him. Even’s index finger taps impatiently against his forearm, mind already working towards a solution that could work for the both of them, since they’ve been forced by their families to spend the rest of the evening together while they talk their talks and eat their foods. Even’s mom told him before everyone’d arrived that she’d ordered a pizza for them, and that they could come out of the room when it got here, but he had to entertain his guest until that moment arrived, and he had enough games and toys to do so, so there is no excuse, Even.

Isak squirms in front of him. “Yes,” he huffs, and his stuffed Barney folds under the tightened clutch of his arms. Even looks at it, considering.

“Okay, then recite it,” he demands. He’s watched his dad’s detective shows before. He knows how to handle liars, and he knows how to coerce them into telling the truth. _It’s all in your tone_ , his father tells him, hand traveling to Even’s hair and ruffling. _You just have to let them know you know what they think you don’t know._

This is usually when his mom finds the two of them and his dad gets in trouble for letting Even watch “such a violent episode”, but it doesn’t matter, Even already knows the Secret: the words are confusing to Even, because he’s _six_ , but he thinks he’s grasped the general concept of them, anyway, and he thinks he can use them to his advantage faced with this lying four-year-old.

Isak squirms again. “Okay,” he deflates, and so does his stuffed Barney. “I don’t know it.”

Triumphant! Now—“Alright,” Even’s arms uncross, and he walks over to his toy box. He kneels in front of it and then bends over, rummaging through the racecars and the toy soldiers to grab at each of this letter cubes, setting them neatly down beside him, one by one by one.

When he’s done, he sits cross legged and turns to look at Isak, who’s looking at Even suspiciously. Even gestures towards the letter cubes.

“I’m going to teach it to you,” Even announces, posture straight. This is how his teacher stands and also sits, and he thinks it promotes the illusion of maturity, and that he knows a lot more than Isak because he is a whole _two_ years older than him, and Isak’s still not in school yet, so he wouldn’t know what it means, but Even thinks it’s the thought that counts.

Isak’s Barney is currently being suffocated, face pressed into the boy’s chest, and Isak’s expression is skeptical.

“You’re not gonna – gonna—” Isak wrinkles his nose, as if he’s trying to remember the word he wants to say. Even sighs impatiently. “Roughen me up?”

Even blinks. “What?”

Isak’s bottom lip is sucked in between his teeth. “My friend Jonas – he says all older kids just wanna – just wanna roughen kids like me up, because I’m little.”

Okay, if he’s being honest, Even’s not sure what that actually means, but he’s not going to tell Isak that, is he, because that would be admitting that this little four-year-old knows something Even, a six-year-old, does not, and that is decidedly Not Okay. “I’m not gonna – do that,” Even waves it off, feigning disinterest. “I’m just gonna teach you the alphabet, like my teacher taught me.”

“Okay.” Isak waddles over to Even, sits cross legged in front of him. The stuffed Barney looms between them.

“Put that down,” Even rolls his eyes. “My floor is clean.”

Isak hesitates, but eventually, he puts the stuffed Barney down.

And Even begins.

\--

Even’s ten years old when he falls off his bike.

He’s in the hospital because, to be fair, he fell off his bike and down a cemented hill, but he thinks he’s fine. His body just hurts a little bit and he’s got a broken arm or whatever, but he’s _ten_ , he doesn’t _need_ all this coddling from his parents.

Isak visits him in the hospital, and unceremoniously throws a chocolate at Even’s face.

“What was that for?” Even scoffs, offended, but reaches for the chocolate that bounced off his face and onto his lap anyway, because chocolate is chocolate, and Even is not one to let food go to waste.

Isak narrows his eyes. “I told you not to go biking down that hill,” he snaps, and Even wonders how his tiny eight-year-old body can hold so much anger. “I told you that ten times.”

Even grins toothily, takes a bite out of the chocolate bar. “I want to say it’s been more like fifteen,” his words are muffled by all of the chocolate in his mouth, but Isak manages to catch them and roll his eyes at them nonetheless.

“I told you fifteen times,” Isak corrects, voice still taut. “You didn’t listen, and now your arm is broken.”

Even glances at his left arm. “Least it’s not the good one,” he points out cheerily. Isak is not amused, and Even feels that under the weight of the very unamused glare.

“You could have at least _called_ me,” Isak huffs, and Even thinks he looks smaller now that his shoulders are slumping. “I could have been there just – in case—”

“This happened,” Even grins. Isak looks at him. “Relax, Isak, I’m _fine_ ,” he promises, even though, medically speaking, Even supposes he’s not that fine. “It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

Isak snorts. “It should,” his tone is still a little tight, but it’s beginning to loosen up, a hint of teasing under it. “You’d deserve it.”

“Ah, you don’t mean that,” Even takes another large bite out of the chocolate. He talks in between bites. “Besides, you should be glad I didn’t call you. Then we’d _both_ be in this hospital, and we’d _both_ have a broken arm, and we both wouldn’t be able to play the Playstation,” he reminds Isak. “We’d have to watch _Jonas_ play. Jonas _sucks_.”

A laugh slips past Isak’s tight-pressed lips, and he looks like he’s been betrayed by his own body. Even’s laugh is big, because it’s so inherently _Isak_ , and he can’t help it. His best friend’s two years younger than him, and he’s grumpy almost all of the time, and every time Even makes him laugh he looks like ten years of his life have been knowingly subtracted from him against his will. Even always makes sure to point out laughter is supposed to _add_ years to one’s life – Isak always makes sure to point Even towards the door.

“I don’t think I want to play with you for a while,” Isak finally says. Even deflates a little bit – but he gets it, he thinks. He worried Isak, and Isak shows his worry through anger, and so Even thinks Isak gets to be a little angry at him for this.

Even doesn’t remind Isak he’s not the one who’s supposed to look after Even – it is the other way around, and has been since Even was six and Isak was four.

“That’s fair,” Even sighs as loudly and dramatically as he can. “But you’ll come visit me once you’re done being mad at me, right? I can only handle so many family members at a time, and Jonas came in here with his _parents_ , who seem to think I am nothing but a rascal bequeathing a bad example to their son.”

Isak looks confused. “What are you even saying?”

Even narrows his eyes. “Maybe you’d _know_ if you read the word-of-the-day calendar I gave you two months ago.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “I’m going to go,” he turns his back. “Mom’s waiting for me outside.”

“Tell her hi for me,” Even requests. “And tell her thank you for the chocolate.”

Isak glances back. “ _I_ gave you the chocolate.”

Even doesn’t point out that that’s not exactly true, because Isak doesn’t get an allowance or anything, so he doesn’t have any actual money that _belongs_ to him, so that means Isak’s _mom_ bought the chocolate, and whoever _buys_ a gift is technically the sender of the gift, no matter where the sentiment derives from. But Even, again, doesn’t point this out because Isak’s already mad at him enough, he doesn’t need to add Strike Two to the list before his arm’s even had a chance to break _properly_.

“Then thank _you_ for the chocolate,” he smiles. Isak’s gaze lingers on Even’s for only a second longer, and then he huffs and waves him off backwards.

“Bye!” Even calls out as Isak pulls open the hospital room door with some effort, and he’s watching his back disappear with the door closing and he’s once again alone in this insufferable room. It’s too white, Even decides, and the dumb paintings on the wall do nothing to accent the place properly – they’re bland, they’re all just a bunch of flowers painted over more flowers and listen, Even could probably draw more interesting flowers than those.

When his mom comes back into the room, she asks Even why he didn’t invite Isak along on the bike ride. Oh, that boy’s been talking to his mother, he sees.

Even shrugs and tells her it slipped his mind. His mother accepts this reply as the truth and does not push the subject further.

He doesn’t tell her it’s because Even already knew he’d probably fall of his bike, and he knew Isak would follow him down that hill without question (pushing past his _fear_ , the idiot), and a very long time ago his mother had asked him to take care of Isak, and those words have been ringing in his head for four years, and they’re the deciding factor in a lot of his misguided adventures: separate the “Invite Isak” and the “Do Not Invite Isak” instances, and this one most definitely fell into the latter category.

Even doesn’t tell her this because it’d probably sound silly, and Even hates sounding silly.

\--

Even’s thirteen years old when he’s diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

He’s seen more than enough hospital rooms to last him a lifetime.

The doctor’s done an okay job at explaining his disorder, Even guesses, but he’s also hardly ever listening when he does. His parents sit beside him every time, holding each other’s hands so tightly Even watches them in anticipation, sure they’re going to burst. They never do.

“Do you have any questions for me, Even?” the doctor will ask him every time he sees him, and Even will always say no. He doesn’t have any questions that the doctor will be able to answer – he always just wants to ask _why_ , and he’s not ready to see the pity that wells up in his parents’ eyes when he does.

He knows he doesn’t get to know why. He knows there are no explanation for these things. So he’s not going to bother asking.

Isak calls him again after the second week of silence. Even doesn’t pick up. His mom tries to convince him that Isak is better off knowing than not, and Even doesn’t listen. He thinks she’s wrong. Isak’s mother is also mentally ill, and he’s always come to Even crying on her bad days, wondering what he’s done wrong and wondering why she refuses to get help and Even doesn’t want to be the reason Isak cries, the reason Isak wonders what he’s done wrong.

Even’s supposed to take care of Isak, not the other way around, and now he doesn’t know how to do that without essentially fucking up every time.

It’s out of your control, his father tells him. It’s not your fault. And Even _knows_ that, but he also _hates_ the lack of control, and he wants to believe he can change his future, change the consequences of his actions. When he comes down from an episode, he feels as if he’s just watched a film – it’s not him, he thinks, and he’s telling a story when he recounts it to his doctor. “That wasn’t me,” Even’ll whisper to him. The doctor will smile patiently at him. “Yes, it was,” he’ll say, and Even doesn’t understand why he has to be so cruel.

Even avoids Isak successfully until he shows up at his door, expression angry and fists balled at his sides. Isak is eleven years old, and he’s even angrier than he was three years ago, though he’s grown enough so that maybe the anger is proportionate to his body.

“ _Why_ are you ignoring me?” Isak pushes past Even. Even doesn’t point out Isak can’t be in here, since he can’t have visitors when his parents aren’t home, but he mostly doesn’t point it out because Isak knows very well the rule has never applied to him. “I don’t get what I did wrong, Even. I spent a lot of days being sad, but now I’m mad, because I know I didn’t do anything wrong—”

“You didn’t,” Even is quick to interrupt. “This isn’t your fault.”

Isak looks a little taken aback. Even knows him so well that he’s almost positive he had an entire speech planned, and it most definitely did not include Even folding so quickly. He looks like he’s trying to find his place in the script, and Even gives him a chance to.

“You’re right,” Isak clears his throat. “It’s not. So will you _please_ tell me what the hell is up with you?”

Even doesn’t know how to say it. So far, he’s managed to avoid saying the words out loud – his parents have taken most of the heat, and the words have either been pointedly dismissive or quietly exhausted. Even doesn’t know what the words would sound like out of his own mouth. He’s not very keen on ever finding out.

He looks at Isak. “I can’t—” he casts his gaze downward, breathing in deeply. “I can’t say it.”

Isak is silent. He doesn’t push. Even wonders how Isak can be so, so smart and intuitive – every time Isak speaks, he sounds angry, but he also sounds miles and miles ahead of his age, and it’s always impressive to Even but also annoying, in the sense that it emphasizes where the gaps exist in Even’s own maturity.

“Write it, then,” Isak finally suggests. Even furrows his brows and looks up to meet Isak’s green gaze. His arms are crossed and it takes everything in Even’s power not to see the small four-year-old boy who’d done the same in his room so many years ago, clutching a stuffed Barney in his arms. “Because I’m not leaving here until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Even thinks about this for a moment. Best case scenario: Isak stays. Isak understands. Worst case scenario: Isak leaves. Isak is afraid.

But either of these scenarios would come about by his refusal to say the words out loud, and maybe that’s what propels him forward.

He drags his feet towards the kitchen, and Isak follows, a couple of steps behind. Even notices Isak’s giving him space, because it’s usually hard to walk in front of him without Isak practically jumping on Even’s shoulders, and he already feels the difference in their relationship caused by this nagging – thing, this hindering disorder, that’ll make him far too happy and then far too sad and lose himself, his real self, in the process.

Even opens the left drawer. He pulls out a small white board his mom uses mostly for emergencies, when she’s out of notebook paper and she needs to write down a phone number or a grocery item immediately. You can never run out of white board, she tells Even every time.

It’s blank, which is good, and Even reaches for the marker that accompanies it in the drawer. He looks at it for a very long time, a little annoyed. He can’t bring himself to say the words, he can’t bring himself to write them. He’s a little afraid he’ll never bring himself to accept them, and always live in this weird limbo of “maybe if I don’t think about it, it’s not real”. He doesn’t think he likes it too much.

Even licks his lips nervously. When he feels this way, he can usually look at Isak and find his courage, but this time, Isak’s his Achilles’s Heel; one look at him and Even is done, and the endeavor is over, and Even will pretend for the rest of his life that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him, and he will avoid not only the words, but the idea altogether.

He uncaps the marker and he writes:

_I’m bipolar._

His exhale is shaky as he hands Isak the whiteboard. Isak takes it immediately, without question, and reads the words quickly.

And Even thinks he reads them again. And then again.

Isak looks up at Even, and doesn’t say a thing, and then Even finally looks up to meet Isak’s gaze and it’s—

Confused.

Even bites his lip. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He doesn’t know how to explain this without breaking down. He doesn’t think he can push past this in order to help Isak come to terms with it, seeing as he hasn’t been able to come to terms with this himself.

“Bipolar,” Isak says the word out loud, and Even almost flinches. “And this is why…?”

Even nods. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence; this is why Even’s been avoiding him.

Even’s eyes trail Isak’s train of thought through his expressions, and though at first it’s nothing but confused, it turns into something like relief, and then it shifts into something like determination. There is a surprising lack of anger in his expression, which Even expected most out of anything.

“Okay,” Isak hands Even back the whiteboard. Even takes it without a word. “Okay. I’ll be back tomorrow,” he holds up an index finger. “Open the door when I’m here, asshole.”

Even usually laughs when Isak curses, but can’t bring himself to do so now – instead, he looks at Isak, a little nonplussed, and then watches his back disappear out the door of his apartment.

When Even’s parents return, they take a look at the whiteboard and look at Even. Even avoids their gaze – he hasn’t moved from the kitchen since Isak left. His mom comes up to him and wraps her arms around him like when he was five and he had a nightmare, and his father quietly grabs a paper towel to erase the words from the whiteboard. He erases them backwards, and in the span of a second they’re gone.

True to his word, Isak comes over the next day. Even won’t admit even to himself that he was a little worried he’d simply run away – simply said that to make Even feel at ease with the situation and then cut him off completely, the way Even thinks everyone has the right to.

Isak knocks on his bedroom door and Even opens it. He pushes past him like he did yesterday, only this time they’re in the privacy of Even’s room and he’s holding a stack of papers in his hands.

Even closes the door as Isak plops down on his floor.

“Okay,” Isak nods, starting to spread the papers out on the wooden floor. Even looks at him, not understanding. “So I did a lot of research on the internet last night, and I think I got the general gist of bipolar disorder,” he explains. Even’s heart does a thing he doesn’t understand. “I know that it’s different for everyone – or that’s what some of the forums said, anyway – but the basics are the same, right?” Isak’s gaze rises to meet Even’s confused one. “Manic and depressive episodes?”

Even swallows hard, but he manages to nod.

This seems to be enough for Isak to continue. “Right, so my friend Magnus – you know him, right? The blonde one,” he says this dismissively, but Even does remember him; the kid always gapes at Even every time he comes over to Isak’s, as though he can’t believe someone as big and tall as Even could possibly be hanging out with _them_. Even likes him. “His mom is bipolar, and he’s told me this before but like, we’ve never gotten into it ‘cause that’s his business, but I talked to him last night and he said—” Isak furrows his brows, rifling through the papers that have now enclosed him in a makeshift fence around his entire self. His expression clears when he finds a college-ruled notebook page, pen ink clumsily spilled everywhere. “Here. Uh, he said we needed a plan for when you, uh,” Isak furrows his brows and brings the paper up almost to his nose, trying to decipher his own handwriting. “For when you show signs of a manic episode, right? Have you come up with a plan?” Isak looks up at Even expectantly.

Even looks back, stunned.

Isak sighs. “Okay, so that’s a no,” he rolls his eyes. “We have to. Because you might – uhm, you might hurt yourself, or someone else, and I know you wouldn’t mean to, but it’s important you don’t, like, what’s it—” Isak finds another piece of paper. “Relapse! Relapse afterwards and then feel worse than you have to.”

Even _knows_. Even knows Isak is smart, he’s always been aware of it, and he knows he’s a firecracker and he knows he’s a good person and he knows he’s got his flaws but Even—

Even hasn’t ever had this overwhelming sense of _love_ for the kid. Never. He’s always loved him, of course he has, he’s Even’s best friend, but it’s never been all-consuming, so powerful he can feel it in his gut, he’s never been so grateful for another human being’s existence as he is now.

“Someone said to keep you away from credit cards,” Isak continues, unaware of Even’s inner turmoil. “But only if you’re already bad with money? You don’t have any money, though, so that’s – I mean, probably doesn’t matter. But you – what meds are you taking?” Isak looks up at Even, who’s still looking back in awe. “Even,” he snaps his fingers, like the tiny dictator he is. “You’re taking meds, right?”

Even nods. Isak’s face clears.

“Good, that’s – that’s good,” Isak breathes out in relief. He looks around at all the papers he’s brought with him for a moment, then looks back up at Even, eyes a little glassy, lips a little shaky. “I just want – I’m here,” Isak promises. Even can feel the knots forming over and over in his throat. “I don’t know a lot yet, but I’m willing to learn, but just don’t – like, don’t shut me out like you did, okay?” Isak wipes at his nose with his sleeve. Even pretends he can’t tell he’s crying. “I want to be here.”

Even swallows harshly. He nods. He pretends his eyes aren’t stinging, as well. “Okay,” he whispers. He makes his way over to Isak and sits across from him, the only thing between them the different mountains of papers printed out clumsily from a handed-down printer, and he looks straight at Isak, who looks straight back at him. Isak sees him, and he’s not afraid.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Isak promises, determination shining in his eyes.

Even laughs shakily. “Okay,” he agrees, and Isak launches off into what else he’s figured out through research, and Even lets him.

\--

Even’s fifteen years old when he meets Sonja.

Isak is thirteen and he’s not a big fan of her (Even thinks he’s not a big fan of girls in general, like maybe he’s just breaking into the teenager thing, and so he’d rather hang out with Jonas and Magnus and now his new pal Mahdi, whom Even is very fond of as well) but Even thinks she’s beautiful, and she’s smart and quick-witted, and she can keep up with most of the eighties-movies references Even tends to throw at her.

(Isak refuses to indulge Even on that front, which, alright, his loss, to be honest, he’ll never know the genius that is John Hughes.)

“I think I’m gonna ask her out,” Even’s playing with the pen in his hand, letting it dance between his fingers, and he’s pretending to do homework on the bed while Isak is most definitely doing homework on the desk. “I think she might like me back.”

Isak grunts at the other end of the room. “Why she would like _your_ ugly mug is beyond me,” he mutters, and Even throws one of his pillows at him. “Oy!” Isak rubs at the back of his head, where the pillow had landed perfectly, and now rests on the carpeted floor of Isak’s room. “That was fucking rude.”

“You just called my face _ugly_ ,” Even points out. “The punishment fits the crime, Your Honor.”

Isak sighs loudly and rolls his desk chair around to look at Even in the eyes. “You’re asking her out based on what, exactly?” he raises an eyebrow. “Her attractiveness and the fact that she’s watched _The Breakfast Club_?”

“Oh, Isak,” Even sighs dramatically, rolls over onto his back and lets his head hang over the edge of the bed. “Your poor, tiny, thirteen-year-old mind just isn’t old enough to understand the power of true love.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he mutters. “You don’t know her well enough to say it’s true love, anyway.”

“You’re not wrong,” Even hums, turning back onto his stomach. He positions himself just right in order to press his elbows into the mattress and rest his head on both of his hands. “Which is why I’m gonna ask her out. To learn more about her. And possibly fall in love with her.”

Isak turns back to his homework. Even can’t see his face, so he can’t know what he’s thinking, which is absolutely cheating on Isak’s part, because he knows if there is one constant in their relationship, is Even’s ability to read Isak’s expression better than anyone, and therefore catch him in any lie he’s able to formulate. “Well, do what you want,” Isak writes something down in his workbook. “You’re the one who’ll have less free time when you get a girlfriend.”

Even softens. “Is that what you’re worried about?” Even asks. “That I won’t have enough free time for you?”

Isak huffs. “No,” he says, but it sounds very much like a yes.

“Aw, Isak,” Even grins. “I’ll always make time for you. I’ve been making time for you since I was six years old,” he reminds Isak. “That won’t stop just because I’ve bagged myself a beautiful lady. Just means you’ll have to bag one of your own sooner rather than later.”

Isak glances at Even. He looks a little uncomfortable – Even wonders if it’s something he said. “Are you gonna tell her that you’re bipolar?” he asks.

Even deflates. “Isak, why,” he deadpans.

Isak looks at him, and this time, his eyes are serious. “You have a tendency to exclude that detail from most of your relationships, romantic or otherwise,” Isak’s voice is still small – cracked, Even thinks, like it’s still trying to find the balance between child, puberty and full-blown teenager – but it’s tight, and it’s determined, and Even wouldn’t be able to miss it if he were a hundred miles away. “And it’s not fair. Not to them, and not to you.” Isak’s face clears a small amount. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he reminds Even quietly.

“I know,” Even snaps, sitting up on the bed and pointedly avoiding Isak’s gaze. He picks up his book and pretends to start reading again – although, in truth, he’d never started a first time – in order to further avoid this conversation with Isak.

Isak’s seen him through some pretty crappy times, now. In the span of the two years he’s been diagnosed, his meds’ dosage have changed about five times, which has always meant most of his episodes have been spontaneous and not pretty. He’s been hospitalized many times – Isak’s been with him through all of them. Every time Even thinks, this is it, this is the one that’ll scare him away, he’s always proved wrong – Isak comes back, and he’ll silently hand him a chocolate like Even’s first ever visit to the hospital all those years ago, and he’ll sit with Even.

He’ll sit with him as he comes down, he’ll sit with him when he does nothing but sleep, he’ll talk to him when he’s got no energy to do so himself. Isak’s always there, and Isak doesn’t pretend to know better than Even, but that doesn’t stop him from caring. It doesn’t stop him from learning.

So it’s easy for him to say it’s nothing to be ashamed of, because he’s been with Even through the Worst. He already knew Even, he already liked Even, and though he had to get used to the idea of his disorder, he never saw one or the other – he just saw him. It must be easy to be Isak, Even thinks. To have no care in the world, to carry no battle on your shoulders. Must be nice.

“I’ll tell her when I tell her,” Even finally replies to an expectant Isak, who’s been staring a hole into the side of Even’s head. “I won’t jump the gun, but if it looks like it’s gonna turn into something serious, I will. Okay?”

He looks up to meet Isak’s gaze. Isak stares at him, considering.

“Okay,” he nods. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Even mutters.

And it _is_ fine, which Even wasn’t exactly expecting at all. He goes on exactly three dates with Sonja before he feels like this may go way deeper than originally intended, and he sits her down after the third one to be as honest as he can with her about his disorder, and explain that he’s telling her so she knows what to expect if she says yes to being his girlfriend.

She looks at him for a very long time, and feels like she might turn all of this down. “This is the strangest way I’ve been asked to be someone’s girlfriend,” she grins. “But, yes. To all of it.”

Even blinks, a little blinded by the development, but then grins widely.

“I don’t know much about bipolar disorder, though,” Sonja’s tone is a little apologetic. Even tells her it’s okay. “I’ll learn,” she promises, and Even almost laughs at how similar her tone is to what Isak’s was, all those years ago, surrounded by heaps and heaps of internet research. “I promise.”

Even believes her, and he leans in to kiss her softly, once, twice. She tastes of cherry and her lips are soft. Even thinks he can kiss them for a very long time and never tire of them. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer on the bench they’re sitting on and she laughs against his lips, and things really are fine, they’re fine.

Isak, however, seems to turn a little sour when Even tells him the next day. Even frowns, not expecting his best friend’s reaction to be anything other than happy.

“Is this about the free time thing again?” Even asks him, following Isak down the halls of the school. “Because I already told you—”

“Even,” Isak holds up a hand, silencing him. “I said I was happy for you. I don’t know what else you’re looking to hear from me.”

“You just don’t look—”

“I’ve had a long day,” Isak stops at his locker. He enters the code, and the locker doesn’t budge. Even stares at it as Isak tries again, and his voice turns tight at the most recent development in his life: the fight with his locker, and Even can understand the frustration, he supposes. “I’m pretty sure I just bombed a test—”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re like the smartest guy I know—”

“— _and_ I’ve gotta finish planning Magnus’s birthday party with Jonas and Mahdi, so I’m sorry I have my own things going on and I can’t jump for joy at your relationship.”

Even bites his bottom lip. He’d completely forgotten about Magnus’s birthday. He’s pretty sure he made plans with Sonja that Friday. When Isak starts beating the locker up with his fist, Even decides against telling him.

“Sorry I bothered you, then,” Even mutters. He’s about to leave, but Isak sighs loudly and keeps his gaze where it is.

“I’m sorry,” Isak rubs the side of his jaw. “I really am tired. But I _am_ happy for you,” Isak’s smile is small, but it’s sincere. “I’m happy she’s a decent girl. I don’t want you to think I want anything but your happiness.”

Even still has trouble remembering Isak is two years younger than him, sometimes. There are some things that color Isak’s age beautifully, and then there are others that drift past the lines and leave Even speechless, like this one right here. There are times when Isak will get pouty and angry at losing a video game, and other times where he’ll put his own problems aside to eloquently express his happiness for his best friend.

Just when Even thinks he knows Isak better than everyone, he goes and pulls something like this, and reminds Even he’s still a mystery.

“Thanks, kid,” he jokes, knowing how much Isak hates being called that. True to form, Isak rolls his eyes and beats his locker a little more until it opens. Isak breathes out a quiet _finally_ and stuffs his books in there forcefully, and Even’s surprised he doesn’t hear horrified, tortured screams coming from the abused school supplies.

“Clean your locker,” Even suggests, and Isak turns over just to glare at him.

“Clean your life,” Isak quips back, and Even can’t help but laugh. Isak is a mystery.

Even slaps Isak’s back lightly. “Alright, I’m off to find my girlfriend,” his lips turn upward into a grin at the word. “Girlfriend. Did you hear that, Isak? I’ve got myself a girlfriend.” He’s saying all of this as he walks backwards, fist up in the air a la John Bender. “Here’s to me!”

And even from this end of the hallway, Even can see the roll of Isak’s eyes.

\--

Even’s seventeen years old when Isak comes out to him.

And he really, really hates how blindsided he is by this.

He gets it, almost. He really has been spending a lot of time with Sonja since he started dating her two years ago, and ever since he decided to go to Bakka instead of Nissen – where Isak decided to go because he’s not a creative media nerd, Even – their communication has been…limited.

Not as limited as it _could_ be, by any means, because Even thinks he can’t survive without Isak for more than three days straight, but sometimes those three days _do_ happen, and they make Even uneasy. He’ll always call Isak to make sure he’s okay, and the same can be said for Isak, but they don’t spend as much time together as they could – Even’s made himself some more “creative media nerd” friends where he is, and Sonja’s made her way over with him, and Isak’s found himself with the same group of friends, plus some added strays – a certain Eva, Jonas’s new girlfriend, plus four other girls that come with Eva – and so they just haven’t been –

Even thinks he shouldn’t have missed this. He shouldn’t have. He used to be able to read Isak like a book, and now he’s sitting on his bed, mouth agape, Isak nervously playing with the hem of his hoodie as he tells Even.

Isak looks up at him, and pure, unadulterated fear makes way past his expression. Even’s hurt Isak thinks he’d ever – he’d ever –

“I’m not gonna roughen you up,” he jokes weakly, calling back to their first meeting a long time ago. Isak looks confused, and Even figures he was too young to completely form that memory, so he slides past it as quickly as he can. “No, I’m – thank you for telling me,” Even makes his voice sound as sincere as possible. “I’m proud of you. You’re gay. That’s – I mean, that’s great,” Even laughs, able to hear the own ridiculousness of his words. “Why am I still talking?”

Isak’s answering smile is small. “’Cause you never know when to shut up.”

Even laughs. “Is that a request? Is that my sign? Should I shut up?”

Isak nods. “Please.”

“What should I do instead?” Even asks, sincerely.

Isak thinks for a second. “Hug me?” his voice is small, almost afraid, like he thinks Even won’t ever hug him again after what he’s just told him. Even’s smile turns soft, and he pulls Isak closer in a hug. It’s tight, and his arms around around Isak’s shoulders, and he nuzzles his nose into Isak’s neck. He wants him to understand there is nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing that would make Even want to leave him. Not this, not anything.

Isak never left. Even never will, either.

Isak’s breath is shaky as he wraps his own arms around Even’s waist. Even feels the touch like he feels all of Isak’s touches – burning, like a house on fire. Even’s nose makes way from Isak’s neck to nuzzle into his hair, instead. “I miss you,” he admits through a small laugh.

Isak breathes out, and it sounds like relief. “Oh, thank God,” Isak admits. “I felt like an idiot for missing you so much.”

Even laughs, a little tearfully, if he’s being sincere, and he pulls back. Isak’s eyes are a little watery themselves, and Even can’t help but laugh at the picture the two of them paint.

“Couple of assholes,” he mutters, reaching over to stroke Isak’s cheeks, wiping away any stray tears that might dare to fall. Isak reaches up to wrap his fingers around either of Even’s wrists, a small smile gracing his lips. Even loves that smile. He can’t believe he’s missed that smile so, so much.

“So,” Even lowers his hands, but Isak’s fingers remain wrapped around one of his wrist. “You like anyone at that useless school of yours?” he teases.

Isak rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing, and Even raises his eyebrows in surprise. “There is,” he gasps. “My, my, Isak Valtersen has a _crush_ , you don’t _say_ ,”

Isak takes his hands back, only to push Even off the bed. Even falls with a thud, but he can’t feel the pain through his laughter. “Okay, you’re leaving now,” Isak demands, and Even instead rolls over in more laughter. Isak has four pillows in total, and all of them find their way to Even’s face, but none of them manage to stop his laughter.

“You’re so _violent_ ,” Even finally gasps. Isak has somehow finds himself on the floor, sitting next to Even, who’s looking up at him from where he lies on his back.

“Are you done laughing at me yet?” Isak raises both eyebrows. Even chuckles, for good measure.

“Yes,” he promises. “But you still have to tell me who you like.”

Isak squirms. “I can’t,” he mutters. “It’s – wrong.”

Even furrows his brows. “Wrong in what way, exactly?”

Isak licks his lips. “He has a girlfriend.”

Even thinks. “Me?” he guesses.

Another pillow hits his face.

“Well!” Even huffs, poking at Isak’s side while he laughs hysterically. “It’s a _possibility_ , don’t lie to me,”

“Sure, sure,” Isak nods through his laughter. “Maybe in another universe.”

“There’s only this one,” Even corrects. Isak raises an eyebrow.

“Uh, no there isn’t,” Isak shakes his head. “Some of the greatest scientists of our generation—”

“Ugh,” Even interrupts. “I’m already bored.”

Isak brings a hand up to run it through Even’s hair. Even meets his gaze upward – his touch is soft against his skin. He missed him so much, Even thinks it almost physically hurts. “I’m just saying,” Isak continues. “There’s more than one universe. Hundreds. Thousands. Millions. All inspired by our choices.”

Even hums. “Explain,” he presses.

Isak sighs, playing with Even’s hair. Even’s eyes close at the sensation. “It’s like – if someone asked me whether I wanted apple pie or cherry pie, right, and I decided in that moment – after careful deliberation, of course,”

“Of course,” Even concedes.

“If I decided in that moment I wanted apple pie, then in another universe, another Isak made the choice of cherry pie,” he sounds excited, animated as he explains. Even loves him like this. “And everything would essentially stay the same, but in the other universe, that pie is cherry, and in this one, the pie is apple.”

Even hums. “So like now,” he opens his eyes to meet Isak’s. “If you chose to tell me who you like, some other poor Even in another universe will never know?” he blinks innocently.

Isak rolls his eyes. “You might be that other poor Even.”

Even gasps, feigning offense. “Why can’t you just _love_ me,”

Isak laughs, then he deflates a little bit. Even looks at him, hoping his gaze is leveled rather than curious. He wouldn’t want to pressure Isak into telling him what he doesn’t want to tell him.

Isak groans, almost like he’s heard Even’s train of thought. He brings his hands up to his face to cover them. “It’s Jonas,” he mutters, voice muffled through his hands, but Even heard it, he did.

Even’s not sure what he expected the revelation to feel like, but he sure didn’t expect his heart to squeeze so uncomfortably. “Huh,” Even licks his lips, thinking. “I mean, that makes sense. He’s your best friend,” he offers.

Isak peeks out from between his fingers. “ _You’re_ my best friend,” he reminds Even.

“Yes, but he’s your _less cool_ best friend,” Even grins, reaching his hand upward to run his fingers through Isak’s hair comfortingly. “It’s normal for you to catch feelings.”

“I’m not even sure they _are_ feelings,” Isak brings his hands back down, squirming rather uncomfortably. “I just know, like – physically—”

“Really?” Even asks. “Even with the—” he gestures to his now-raised eyebrows.

Isak snorts, slapping Even’s hand away. “Shut the fuck up,” he laughs.

Even smirks. “I mean, if you like that kind of hair instead of this one right here,” he pulls at his own head of hair. “That’s your prerogative.”

Isak laughs a little louder, and Even doesn’t let his heart get in the way of this moment. No, no, it’s perfect, and he’s not going to listen to it, he’s not going to let it hurt the way it does and he’s not going to let his mind wander. He’s got to have some semblance of control over his body, over his thoughts, and he’s not going to let them wander. He’s not going to let them disappear and then reappear. They’re going to get lost. They’re going to get lost.

But Isak’s laughter still rings in his ears, and his face is still innocent and eyes are still bright, and Even thinks he can drown in this moment forever.

“You ever gonna tell him?” Even asks quietly. Isak shakes his head.

“I don’t think so,” he scoots forward in order to be able to lie on his back, alongside Even. “I almost did something stupid, though.”

“What’d you do?” Even asks.

“I almost—” Isak looks far too ashamed. “Eva told me that she hooked up with this guy, Chris, at a Halloween party, and I almost told the guy’s girlfriend,” his eyes try to find Even’s who’s too busy staring at Isak’s profile to really find them back. “’Cause, you know, I know it’d be so much worse if it didn’t come from her.”

Even raises an eyebrow. “And why didn’t you?”

Isak shrugs lightly. “I dunno,” he sighs. “I guess I thought – you wouldn’t,” he explains. “You’d never be that petty.”

Even doesn’t know, actually. For the right person, he may be even pettier.

“Maybe an Isak in a different universe did it,” Even teases. Isak laughs quietly.

“Wonder how that turned out for him?” he wonders. Even turns over onto his side and watches Isak’s eyes close tiredly. This is when he can’t imagine a universe in which he does not know Isak. A universe where he doesn’t meet Isak. Isak is a constant in all of the universes, of that, he’s certain.

“Does it matter?” Even asks. Isak opens one eye, meets Even’s weighted gaze, then closes it.

“No,” Isak smiles. “I don’t think it does.”

His phone rings, and it’s Sonja. Isak’s eyes open as Even reaches for his phone and stares at the contact picture in awe, wondering if this is what forgetting someone for a moment feels like. He’d completely forgotten about her existence the second he was in Isak’s presence, and even now, she seems like a distant memory, like the contact on his phone isn’t real.

“You’re not gonna pick up?” Isak asks him, watching Even intensely.

Even hovers over the answer button for a second, before locking the phone and shutting it up.

“Nah,” Even lies back where he is, looks at Isak. “We’ve got time, right?”

Isak smiles kindly. “Right.”

\--

Even’s nineteen years old when he kisses his best friend.

It doesn’t start romantic. It doesn’t start like anything, really. Even is over and Isak is bored and they’re talking about one thing or the other, Even can’t really remember. Isak’s trying to keep Even busy, though, he can tell, because ever since he’s had to repeat his last year at Nissen (stemmed from that unfortunate event at Bakka last year, which Mikael had kindly spread through the rumor mill _in every single school_ ) Even’s been kind of spiraling to the lows more than the highs, and Isak always looks worried, he always looks sad. There are days when Even entertains the idea of Isak being better off without him – other days when he almost convinces himself of the fact, but Isak always comes back. He always comes back, and Even thinks he’s cemented himself far too deeply into Even’s life for Even to let him go.

Eventually they get so bored and have exhausted all of their video games that Even’s the one who suggests Isak helps him study for his biology test tomorrow. Isak, like the nerd that he is, agrees enthusiastically, makes the both of them sit up on the bed. Even’s back is resting against Isak’s pillows and Isak is going through the flashcards he’d made for this specific purpose – for Even’s test, not his own, because he’s a fucking nerd, again.

“True or false,” Isak’s on about his fifth question. “An antibiotic is a preparation of weakened or killed virus.”

Even’s not really paying attention at this point – he’s kind of just. Drinking Isak in.

Over the years, Isak has grown a considerable amount. He’s still not as tall as Even, of course, but he had an incredible growth spurt, and from one year to another – that’s it, one year, he swears – his small, kind face turned rugged, sharp at the jaw and pointed at his nose, his shoulders broader than they were before and his eyes greener, if at all possible. There were numerous girls at Nissen still trying to win his heart, considering his coming out had been very limited to his close friends, and Even could understand why. He’s grown up good, he’s grown so much, much more than Even could have possibly imagined.

And yes, of course people are starting to notice Isak’s beauty. But he wants to grab at those people irrationally and whisper, _I noticed it first_.

Even licks his own lips when his eyes find Isak’s. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it, he’ll admit. Not since that quiet day in Isak’s bedroom, where he admitted his sexuality to Even and Sonja disappeared from the realm of existence for hours and hours, until she reminded him she hadn’t. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since his heart squeezed at the thought of Isak liking someone else, finding someone else, and it hasn’t happened yet, but what about when it does? What will Even do then?

It’s not fair, he knows. He still has Sonja, who’s been one of the most understanding and kind souls he’s ever met, even now that she’s graduated. She doesn’t leave him when it gets bad, even though the only person he ever wants to see when it does is Isak. She understands. She lets him live. But he doesn’t love her. Isn’t sure he ever did.

Not the way she wants him to, anyway.

“True or false,” Isak repeats, and this time his voice is quieter. It breaks Even out of his stupor. “You want to kiss me right now.”

Even’s heart lodges in his throat. He feels it stuck there, eyes calculating against Isak’s own – he wants to seem brave, Even can tell, but he can also see the underlying nervousness. He took the plunge, Even realizes, the one Even’s been afraid to take for two years now, and he did so without wavering once.

Even sits up straighter on the bed, reaches to stroke the side of Isak’s face with his thumb. Isak’s inhale is shaky, and his Adam’s apple bobs nervously. Even follows the movement with his eyes. He glances back up, feels his own gaze darken.

“True,” he mutters quietly, and then:

Isak kisses him first, and that’s what he’ll tell their grandchildren when they’re older. Isak kisses him first, and the kiss is clumsy, but then it’s sweet, and the sensation is indescribable, like he’s lived without Isak’s lips for far too long and the feeling of them is the very first breath Even’s taken in years and years.

His lips are warm and soft and everything wonderful in the world, everything burning in the world, everything, everything in the world. It’s what Even’s wanted, this is what feels right, it’s what’s been missing his entire life and he can’t let go, and when Even tilts his head to deepen the kiss, Isak gasps, as if he didn’t know he was allowed.

Isak kisses him harder, then, and suddenly he’s straddling Even’s lap, index cards forgotten, the heavy text book next to Isak falling to the floor with a loud thud they both ignore. One of Even’s hand cups the back of Isak’s neck and the other finds its way to his back, under his shirt, where the sensation of skin-on-skin feels like the ache that’s been gnawing at him for years now fading away.

Isak grinds downward. Even groan is stuttered.

Even grinds upward, and this is when Isak pulls back. “Even,” he mutters, even as Even’s lips chase his own and bring them back together.

“Even,” Isak mutters one more time, against Even’s lips. Even simply hums in response. “What about Sonja?”

God. “Yeah, what about her?” he asks. Sonja’s out of his head, out of his mind, out of his realm of existence—

“Even,” Isak’s lips seem to be having difficulty breaking away from Even’s, but he finally manages to, which causes Even to groan.

“Isak, Isak, can I please—” he scatters kisses along Isak’s jaw. “I want this so badly—”

Isak’s breath is shaky, but he perseveres, impressively. “It’s not fair to her,” he breathes, head tilting backward, inviting Even’s lips.

“Oh my God,” Even bites at the corner of Isak’s jaw. The noise Isak makes at the gesture runs down his spine. “Since when are you—”

“Even,” Isak breathes out, lowering his face again, and Even feels the breath dry his lips. “I don’t want to do this with you if it feels like I’m just—” Isak stutters.

“I’m just?” Even offers.

“No, _I’m_ just gonna be a – a secret,” his eyes avoid Even’s.

Even huffs a laugh, brings his hand to Isak’s chin to raise his gaze. He looks at him for a moment, takes in this beautiful boy, all his, all his. “You’re the worst-kept secret I’ve ever had,” he tells him, and it’s nothing short of the truth. He’s sure anyone, anyone with eyes could see Isak means more to Even than anyone on this planet, anyone on this solar system, anyone in this universe.

Isak presses his forehead against Even’s. Even revels in the contact. “She’s still in the picture.”

“That she is,” Even nuzzles Isak’s nose. “But she’s not you.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Isak laughs softly. “Of course she’s not me.”

“She doesn’t make me feel like you do,” he whispers. The aching in his chest, the shiver down his spine, and the racing of his heart. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything quite like this in my entire life.”

Isak exhales shakily. “Me neither.”

“And besides,” Even pushes forward, runs a hand through Isak’s hair. “It’s always been you. Through her and through everything else, it’s always been you.”

Isak looks at him. “You just want me to kiss you again.”

“True,” Even chuckles, hand no rubbing the back of Isak’s neck, fingers playing with what they could reach of his hair. “But I also mean it.”

Isak’s hand presses to the left of Even’s chest. “Your heart,” he whispers in wonder.

It’s beating about eighty miles an hour, approximately. “It could write songs about you.”

“Make movies?”

“A thousand of them,” Even grins. “A thousand movies.”

Isak looks at him for what feels like an eternity. “True or false,” he leans forwards. “You love me.”

Even’s breath hitches.

He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Isak’s mouth. “True,” he whispers, and no words have ever been, or will ever be, truer. “Always true.”

\--

(He apologizes to Sonja for the last time. He’d forgotten to pick her up at the airport when Isak called him, which turned into their first kiss.

“That’s alright,” Sonja tells him, standing across from him in the park. “It wasn’t you.”

“Yes, it was,” he echoes his doctor’s words from so long ago. He was being honest. This is him. This is him. “It _was_ me, and it was for him.” Sonja’s expression changes to one of understanding. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

Sonja seems to try to blink away her tears. “You know, I was always afraid—” she swallows. “I was always afraid you’d realize.”

Even looks at her. “Realize?”

“That you love him,” she laughs quietly. “That you’ve always loved him. That you never looked at me quite the same way you looked at him.”

Even knows that in a million different realities, he’d choose Isak over Sonja every time. He knows that given the choice a thousand different ways, he’d love Isak, over and over again.

He’s sorry Sonja had to be caught in that crossfire.

“I’m sorry,” he voices this. Sonja shakes her head and smiles at him shakily.

“So am I,” she cups the side of his face. “He’s good for you,” she whispers.

“I know,” Even agrees. He always has been.

She lets go, one last time. “Bye, Even.”

It’s only when Sonja’s completely out of view, after the distance’s made her look smaller and smaller and smaller until she’s disappeared entirely into it, that Even replies: “Bye, Sonja.”)

\--

Isak immediately slips into Even’s arms when he shows up at his place. He knows, like he’s always known, it’s happened. Isak thinks he needs to comfort Even. Even can’t believe Isak can know so many things and yet none at all all at once.

When Even’s holding him in bed, Even lips brush the top of Isak’s head. “Do you know the alphabet?”

Isak furrows his brows and looks up at Even, confused. “Even, what.”

Even smiles. “Twelve years ago, I stood right over there,” Even points towards the corner of his room, near his door. “And you stood right over there,” he points a little to the left of that. “And you were holding a stuffed Barney—”

“Oh, God,” Isak groans, burying his face into Even’s chest. Even chuckles.

“And I asked you if you knew the alphabet,” he finishes.

Isak stays still for a moment. “I didn’t,” he replies quietly. Even did not expect a response at all. “And you taught it to me.”

Even laughs. “You remember,” he teases. Isak looks up.

“Sometimes,” Isak admits. “Most of it is foggy, but mostly I just remember you.”

Even smiles. He doesn’t tell Isak he feels the exact same way, every single high, and every single low. Most of it is foggy, but mostly he just remembers Isak.

“What do you think parallel universe Isak and Even are doing right now?” he asks Isak. Isak presses the side of his head into Even’s chest again, thinking.

“I think maybe this,” he admits. “Unless there’s an Even out there who chose not to break up with Sonja.”

Even gasps scandalously. “That bastard.”

“I know, right?” Isak grins up at him. “Makes me feel lucky I got stuck in this universe, with this Even.”

Even presses a kiss to Isak’s nose, which immediately wrinkles. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure there’s no version of Even that chose not to break up with Sonja.”

“How do you know?” Isak raises a challenging eyebrow.

Even smiles. “Because it was never a choice.”

Isak swallows. He leans forward, silently asks for a kiss. Even grants him one.

And then another, and then another, until eventually Isak falls asleep in Even’s arms and Even can’t help but look at him as much as he can, as much as possible, before he loses it.

He doesn’t know that, though. He doesn’t know if he’ll lose him.

And maybe he will. Maybe this won’t be forever, but at this very second—

Well, it feels like it could be.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this cheesy thing.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://westiris.tumblr.com/), where you can scream at me about all things skam. i already love you.
> 
> translated to [chinese](http://redforall.lofter.com/post/364100_e109822) by [doriszhou1206](http://doriszhou1206.tumblr.com/) and [here](http://cynicynicynic.lofter.com/post/1cc104d5_e6d3646) by [wendy1996](http://wendy1996.tumblr.com/)!  
> translated to [russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5231610) by [chermustdie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chermustdie)!


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